


Gilded Box

by orphan_account



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, Edging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's memories aren't free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gilded Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisisbeabe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thisisbeabe).



The clattering of boxes alerts Pitch to Jack's arrival. The boy rifles through the piles of memories, searching for his own, ignores the fairies squeaking for help. Pitch can tell the boy wants it bad, and he can use that to his advantage.

"Looking for something?" Pitch’s voice echoes through the caves as the nightmare king rises from the shadows, Jack's memories in hand.

The boy whips around, eyes wide, and Pitch narrowly dodges the shot of frost Jack launches at him. 

They dance. Jack thinks he's on the offensive, but Pitch only leads him deeper into the caverns. He enjoys every expression that twists Jack's face: rebellion, disbelief, anger, all bleeding an undercurrent of fear. He taunts the boy with parlor tricks and words, jumping from shadows to full form as easily as breathing The nightmare king feels more energized than he has in years, and he can't keep a grin off his face he's having so much fun.

Jack is a formidable opponent, but Pitch holds the advantage, fighting in near darkness in his domain. Silly of the boy to explore beneath the bed, but Pitch is so pleased that he did. He likes watching the shadows flash across the boy's features, dynamic shapes lasting for fractions of a second, cold blue eyes captured in the dim light before he's moving again.

Jack missteps and backs himself into an ancient wall, and Pitch materializes in front of him, chapped lips mimicking a smile. The boy's panting, gripping his staff tightly in front of him, but he doesn't attack. Jack knows his error, stumbling into this dark place, and waits for Pitch to make his move.

"Don’t worry. I'm going to give you your memories, Jack." The boy's shoulders slump just a little, relieved. Pitch loves how trusting he is, so young and naive; 318 is such an endearing age.

"But," He continues, and the boy tenses again. "I want something in return." Pitch doesn't mention that he's already securing the guardian's defeat as long as Jack lingers, and that's a reward in itself. However, Pitch learned it was always better to take what you can get. He hates missing opportunities.

"What do you want?" Jack says like he's dealing with the devil, knows he's risking the guardians' trust as he barters. His stomach twists in knots, not even sure if this is a good idea, but he needs this box, needs to know who he was.

Pitch shakes the memories in his hand, watching the gold-lined box glimmer in the soft light before he fixes his gaze on Jack.

"I want you. Let me use you, and I'll give you a new memory to go with your old ones." Pitch laughs as the boy's face blanches, what color he did have in his cheeks draining. 

He extends the gilded box towards Jack, and the boy just stares, locked in indecision. A girl's voice rings through the caverns. The box glows as it calls for Jack, and Pitch watches each incremental change of expression. The frost spirit almost seems to be in pain, grimacing and staring at the box like he can’t bare to have it but he wants it just the same. Jack has an inkling of what Pitch wants; you can't live for three hundred years without stumbling into a few awkward situations when you happen to be invisible. Still, he doesn’t know the first thing about doing that himself.

"We are in agreement? I don't want you getting cold feet." He smiles at his own joke.

Seconds tick away. The voice rings clear from the box once more.

"It's a deal," Jack says through grit teeth.

Pitch vaults at the frost spirit, shadows flipping and flattening him against the wall. The boy grunts, struggling for a second before willing his body still. A familiar smell washes over the tunnel, anxiety laced with fear. It's pulsing off the boy and Pitch laughs again, nearly ringing his hands in glee. 

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you."

"What's the idea? I said I would let you. And I'm not afraid." Jack replies with conviction, and Pitch would believe him if he wasn't a thing of terror.

Shadow clothes whisper as Pitch eliminates the space between them; he breathes in fear and dead leaves and the gentle cold of the boy, a smell uniquely Jack’s. 

"I must say, you aren't very convincing. Fear is pouring off you. Tell me, Jack, is this your first time?"

Jack casts his gaze downwards. His cheek is pressed against the wall, and it looks uncomfortable, but Pitch doesn't mind. Jack's comfort isn't a concern. The frost spirit licks his lips, no doubt nervous, but Pitch follows the movement like a predator, golden eyes thinning.

"I don't see how that matters.”

Pitch grasps the boy’s hair, weaving his fingers deep to its roots before tugging his head back. Jack hisses, eyes finding Pitch’s in a livid glare.

“Answer me.”

Jack looks like he rather bite than concede, but he surprises Pitch by flushing and shutting his eyes.

“It is. My first time, I mean.” Jack whispers, and Pitch softens his grip but he doesn’t let go, instead letting his hands slide down to hold his neck instead. The boy is cool to the touch and warms only incrementally with contact.

Pitch drags his other hand down the Jack’s body, fingers splayed, touching as much as he can. He palms the spirit’s ass through his pants, and though the boy agreed to this, he still squirms away from him. He tugs the boy’s pants down just far enough to expose him to the cave air. The nightmare king drags a single finger across the smooth cool skin. Jack presses harder into the wall.

“Has anyone ever told you have a nice arse?” Pitch laughs, hot breath rolling over the shell of his ear. Pitch knows the only people who have ever seen Jack are the guardians, and he doubts they have been so intimately acquainted.

Pitch waits for some smart retort indicative of Jack’s spirit, but the boy’s silent. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed.

“Come now, you don’t have to be embarrassed.” Pitch closes the inch between his lips and Jack’s neck, sucking just below his ear. Jack’s skin tastes fresh and cold, and he can’t help but bite the boy, sinking his teeth into the chill. A soft squeak escapes, and Jack's eyes grow large. He tries to shrug away from Pitch’s mouth.

“Just stop o-okay? Get it over with!” Jack stumbles over his words, loud and shaky.

"Why? Are you that eager for me to fuck you?"

The shadows lift the boy a few inches off the ground and relieve him of his top. Pitch kisses and nips between his shoulder blades, trailing angry wet marks down his spine with his blunt, crooked teeth. Jack murmurs barely loud enough for Pitch to hear before quieting. Pitch needs to fix that.

A violent tug brings the boy almost out of the shadows’ grasp as Pitch drags his tongue lower.

“What are you _doing_?” Jack trembles, straining to wiggle away from the exploring mouth. The shadows press around the boy tighter, and Pitch grabs his hips, steadying the frost spirit.

“Does this really require an explanation?” Pitch asks, and Jack sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as the nightmare king continues, each lick feels molten against his cool skin. Jack hears Pitch spit and suddenly there’s pressure. The boy startles, but the shadows are ready this time,  holding him hard enough to reduce Jack to breathless gasps.

“Relax.” Pitch whispers, straightening. He bites Jack again on the lobe of his ear; he tastes like fresh snow.

The frost spirit’s drawn tight like he’s going to break, but he can’t hold out forever. Pitch and his shadows squeeze the boy until he’s too strained and breathless to resist. He presses a finger inside, only slightly warmer but so tight, and Jack moans, and it’s a scared and surprisingly husky noise. Jack shoves his face into the wall, cheeks burning cold, a fine tremble racking his body.

Pitch pauses, sliding his other hand down Jack’s front, and Jack says something that sounds like ‘no’. The nightmare king trails his hand past his sharp hip bone, finds Jack thick and wet and the boy growls when he glides his hand down it once. Pitch licks his lips, mouth dry.

“You...you’re enjoying this.” The dark one says quietly, and there’s malice in his voice, but maybe a little awe too. He exchanges hands quickly, sliding his coated fingers into the boy. Pitch smells blood, leans back to locate its source. Jack’s biting his lip so hard a needle thin trickle drips down his chin. He clenches Jack’s hip, fingers quickening, adds a third digit. Jack gasps, crystalline droplets shimmering on his skin.

“Come on,” Pitch’s voice rings harsh in his ears. “Let me hear you, Jack.”

“S-shut up,” Jack voice cracks; he barely forms words. “Y’just like...hearing yourself...taaah-lk...”

Jack’s shaking, and Pitch can feel the strain in his body, feels the boy jerk like he wants to snap his hips forward, but Pitch holds him tight. The level of fear elevates, and Pitch laughs before he realizes its source.

“Are you close?” The nightmare king asks. “Do you even know what’s about to happen? All that building pressure?” Pitch works his hand slower, but pushes in deep, curling his fingers. Jack keens, broken and low. “You’re going to come, Jack.”

The frost spirit moans, gulps in air and Pitch rams his fingers in hard. Once. Twice. Tears prick the boy’s eyes, he’s rushing towards something, almost there and

Pitch grabs the base of his length in a vice, and Jack yells, reeling back from the edge. The nightmare king imagines the boy’s cock, dark and leaking. It pulses in his grip, wet and even warm now that he’s got his hand on it. Jack curses breathlessly, the shadows around him never giving an inch, his chest heaving.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean now.” The boy thrashes, elicits angry, mindless noises, and Pitch withdraws, coats his fingers again in Jack’s slickness, strokes some on himself before he presses against the boy.

“I think you’re gonna like this, Jack.” Pitch fully intended to torture Jack, but as he sinks into the boy, hears Jack groan and fucking take it, it’s hard to stop and just feel.

Jack cries, overwhelmed, scared, locked in unwanted pleasure. It’s too new for him, and he’s never seen a coupling like this, imagines he looks ridiculous and pathetic but there’s nothing he can do but try not to let it kill him. He feels his cock pulse and leak into a hand that’s too warm for him to handle, that won't let him go.

“Ah, ah, not just yet.” Pitch whispers, stroking the boy’s hair before sinking his fingers into it, starting to thrust. Jack’s sounds are so good, soft, broken, winded, and his body’s even better, cold and smooth against his heated touch.

Pitch enjoys this so much more than he should, expecting Jack to be unresponsive instead of this needy, moaning thing in front on him. It speeds the snap of his hips, makes him gasp quietly, eclipsed by Jack’s choked expletives.

“You’re leaking all over my hand. Naughty boy. Who knew?” His voice is rough, and he tries not let on that Jack is pushing all his buttons. “Jack Frost, greedy little virgin.” A shallow noise escapes Jack as he starts to cry freely.

Pitch rocks into him, the sound of skin slapping obscene in the normally silent cave. He strokes the boy once before gripping tight again, and Jack’s almost screaming though he’s near breathless from the shadows.

Pitch doesn’t trust himself to speak anymore, focuses on fucking as hard as he can, slowing only when he thinks the boy will hyperventilate.

He’s getting close, everything’s warm inside now, and he’s not sure if that can hurt Jack and he’s surprised that it matters in this moment.

“Now, Jack.” Pitch releases his grip, holds the boy’s hips in a vice when Jack tightens around him and he almost comes then and there.

The frost boy screams, voice cracking as he spills against the wall, silences as his body goes limp for a few seconds. Pitch keeps fucking him, emptying at last into Jack’s body, chest locked solidly against the boy’s back, embracing his exhausted form.

The shadows despurse, piling Jack in his arms. It’s a little scary waiting for Jack to recover. His body is splotchy, warm human skin exposed where Pitch made the most contact with him.

Realization hits him, and he lets the boy fall unceremoniously to the floor. Jack groans, and the nightmare king looks at the mess they’ve made, the come on the walls, his own pooling below Jack. He runs a hand through his own hair, summoning Jack’s memory box and dropping it as his feet. Pitch watches the boy recover before sinking into the shadows.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He wants Jack Frost.

Pitch starts calculating a way to win the boy to his side.


End file.
